Beyond Salvation: The 75th Annual Hunger Games
by MeggieSpazz
Summary: "This year, on the 75th anniversary, as a reminder that the young are most easily influenced by those they look up to, each district will draw, in addition to their usual two tributes, a third tribute from the adults of the district." An AU Quarter Quell as told from the point of view of Zedekiah Spelt, tribute for District 9.
1. The Quell

Author's Foreword: Every writer has a different journey. I began with short stories at a young age, and then gradually found my way to roleplay forums in my early teens. As anyone who has written a character to completion knows, some of our characters stick with us longer than others, and some leave an indelible imprint on our hearts. Zed is that character for me.

* * *

 **Prologue: The Announcement**

7:30 in Panem.

The drums sounded, the cymbals clashed, the trumpets blared, and the screens across Panem flickered on to the roar of the Anthem.

 _Oh horn of plenty, one horn of plenty for us all..._

Zedekiah Spelt strode into his dwelling just in time to see the Seal of the Capitol slowly fading from the screen of his television, revealing the pale grey eyes of President Coriolanus Snow as he addressed the nation. Though generally good-natured, upon seeing the pallid white face of his president, Zed's lips pressed together in a disapproving frown. He leaned slightly forward, gripping the handle of his hoe as he listened carefully to the man's announcement.

Snow took the stage, followed closely by a young boy in a white suit. In a measured, clear voice, he began to speak of times past - the Dark Days, those awful days of revolution and rebellion that led to the institution of the Games and the laws that dictated how they should be held. "And of course, these laws also make provisions for those Games which are held in recognition of the glorious years since the Rebellion was subdued. Every twenty-five years, we celebrate the anniversary of our Nation's great triumph with an even greater version of the Games: The Quarter Quell. This Quell serves to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion."

Though he could hardly say why, Zed felt a cold dread flooding his chest as the man continued. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their _choice_ to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it. On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

Zed's eyebrow's furrowed as he recalled that Games. He remembered it - it had been one of his earliest memories, the first of many recollections that drove fear and pain into the very core of his being. He remembered, though he had been only four, the beauty of the arena, and the terror of watching the tributes as they fought and died. It had been the first year somebody he'd known had been reaped: a boy named Omri. He was thirteen, and he'd been the son of one of the Spelt's closest neighbors. Though he'd escaped the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, he'd been one of the first to go, drinking from a crystal-clear stream that turned out to be deadly poisonous.

Zed shook his head to clear his thoughts as Snow's voice cut in once again. He had taken a small yellow envelope from the wooden box the small boy in the white suit had been holding, and he cleared his throat as though to ensure that all eyes and ears were attentive to him alone.

"This year, on the 75th anniversary, as a reminder that the young are most easily influenced by those they look up to, each district will draw, in addition to their usual two tributes, a third tribute from the adults of the district. This _chaperone,_ if you will, shall be entered into the arena as a third tribute for their district."

The screen flickered once and then faded back into darkness, leaving Zed alone in the dark to ponder this most ominous announcement.

* * *

Disclaimer: Because this story was originally crafted as part of a collaborative effort (an rp forum), a few of the characters, situations, and ideas are not my own. Zed is entirely mine, but although a few of the names and characters have been tweaked and expanded upon to suit my own purposes, credit must be given where it is due: The Quell Twist as well as the arena are credited to Shiver and Issy of _Time Won't Forget_ ; Captain Brine is also Issy's creation. Ginnifer belongs to Shel, and Branch will forever be Alex's little buddy. _The Hunger Games_ is, of course, Suzanne Collins', and this story would not be here if she had not given us such a rich setting to insert our characters into.


	2. The Reaping

**Chapter One: The Reaping**

As he pulled on the only decent shirt he owned, Zedekiah would've liked to murder the ass who came up with this quarter quell's "twist." The whole thing was a sham, that's what it was. Three tributes per district, and one of them an adult? Or "chaperone," whatever they called it. It didn't matter. The point was, he wasn't safe anymore. He'd thought the whole thing was over and done with as soon as he'd passed his 8th reaping unscathed, but now it seemed, he was going to have to rely on that same luck that had pulled him through 29 years of hardship and pain.

As he fastened up the buttons of his stiff denim collared shirt, Zed examined his reflection in the mirror. He didn't often look, as he didn't much care about the state of his appearance, and as he contributed to the standard work in District 9 — fieldwork — more often than not it was hard to see past the dirt, sweat, and grime to the man underneath.

Today, though, as the citizens of Panem did every year on the first of July, Zed had done as was required, and cleaned up for the ceremony. He'd even shaved, something he generally reserved only for special occasions, which as of late had been few and far between. Dark brown eyes gazed back at him, large and solemn beneath strong black brows. His hair, well... he'd shorn it off two weeks ago - a practicality since his hair was thick and dark, which only made fieldwork even hotter and more uncomfortable in the summertime. Rubbing his fingers over the dark fuzz that covered his head, he amused himself with the thought that even had his curls grown in already, he wouldn't have been able to do much with it, anyway. One never could, with hair such as his.

Testing the smoothness of his jaw one last time with a swipe of his fingers, Zed pried himself away from the mirror and headed for the door, pausing only for a moment to tuck his knife and his bible into the pockets of his jeans.

A couple miles' walk later, Zed arrived in District 9's town square, sweating from the July sun and the exertion of walking in a long-sleeved, denim shirt. Well, if people were offended, it wasn't his fault that the Capitol had decided however long ago that they should get dressed up for it, like it was some special occasion.

Yeah, cos sending children - and now, adults - off to their deaths was _such_ a special occasion. Definitely a celebration-worthy event.

He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, leaving a slight stain of wetness where the denim came in contact with his skin. He spat, trying to wash the taste of dust from his mouth, but to no avail. Not that anyone cared. District 9's population was expansive, and most, like himself, had grown up knowing little more than sweat and dirt and the sound of metal scraping through the soil.

Zed had attended the Reaping every year, as it was a national requirement, but from the start, this time seemed different. He hadn't had to walk through the registry line since his last eligible reaping 11 years ago. This year, due to the Quarter Quell "twist," every inhabitant of District 9 over the age of 12 was in danger of having their name drawn, and even with additional support staff, the checking in took _forever_. It was nearly 5:00 when at last all the citizens of District 9 had been accounted for, and Zed was so exhausted from all the waiting that he could hardly do more than stand there and wait dazedly with the rest of the crowd.

The children of District 9 stood in the center of the square, as they did every year, organized from oldest to youngest. The adults were then organized by decade in semi-circles extending outward from the stage. At 29, Zed was in the third group from the stage, after the reaping-age children and the 19- and 20-year-olds. From where he stood, he couldn't quite understand what the escort was saying, even with the large overhead speakers projecting her voice across the town, but on the gargantuan screen perched high up on the Justice Building, he could easily read the faces and gestures of the crowd as the names were called.

He watched with that same, cold sinking feeling in his heart as a wispy-looking blonde girl made her way to the stage, shaking like a stalk of wheat in the breeze. She was followed closely by a taller, somewhat cocky-looking, scraggly youth in his late teens.

A moment later, he was being shoved forward through the crowd by a Peacekeeper. _Oh, shit. Oh, Jesus..._ he thought as he came to the realization that his name must have been called. So much for his luck.

 **"I'm movin', don't push,"** he said steadily to the Peacekeeper, who seemed all too eager to be poking him in the back with his gun. The sharp pressure lessened a little, and Zed lifted his chin and rolled his shoulders back. He set his jaw and breathed in slowly to calm the shaking in his hands that threatened to become obvious. He looped his fingers into his belt and strode forward, his head held high as he ascended the steps.

As he had done whenever something terrible had befallen him, Zedekiah looked toward the heavens, sending up prayers to whatever higher power might be listening. He _refused_ to let this break him. He would be strong, and he would meet this challenge head on. Better that he should be the one sent to the arena than somebody else, somebody with a family and people who depended on him. And so he walked forward, toward the challenge, to whatever fate awaited him.


	3. Destination, The Capitol Station

**Chapter Two: Destination, The Capitol Station**

Zedekiah's mind was a buzz of faceless people in the hours immediately following his reaping.

He'd been led into a room where he was told he could say his goodbyes, but as expected, nobody appeared to wish him farewell. Why would they? He was a person - just a normal person in District 9, and a hard worker come harvest season, but with no family left to speak of, he'd never been someone people thought to regularly invite over to share dinner.

Maybe, if things had been different, the Sheafs would have... But, no. He shook the thought from his head. Sally was gone, no more than a distant memory now.

Suppressing the urge to let his thoughts run away from him, he instead leaned against the pane of a window that overlooked the square below, gazing at the thousands still gathered there. Probably they were all just breathing that sigh of relief, and well they should. Next year, it wouldn't be a quarter quell anymore, and all the people 19 and over would be able to breathe easy again.

At least he'd thought to bring his bible. He knew from watching previous Games, that sometimes people were allowed to bring things with them into the arena, provided the item couldn't benefit them as a weapon in any way. Hopefully a ratty, old, leather-bound bible the size of a pack of cards couldn't possibly be considered beneficial in an arena...

He pulled it out of the pocket of his jeans, thumbed through it to glance at a well-worn page in Job, then tucked it carefully back into the front pocket of his shirt. His old pocketknife would soon be taken away, he knew, but he meant to keep his bible for as long as he could.

A few minutes later, somebody appeared at the door to escort him onto the train that would take him to the Capitol, where he would spend the next week training and such before being pushed into wild, unknown situations that would push him to the limits and probably kill him. Well, Zed wasn't one to back down from a challenge when it presented itself, and he'd not go down without a fight.

The luxury of the train came as a little bit of a shock after 29 years of dirt, sweat, and hardship. The carriage itself moved faster than any cart he'd ever ridden on. The fabrics of the upholstery were softer than anything he'd ever slept on or worn, and the food... well, the food was definitely unlike any he'd ever experienced.

Not really bothering to assess the choices from the ridiculous buffet presented, he grabbed a few rolls from a platter with his bare hands, pleased that at least one thing would always be familiar: bread. Being that he hadn't eaten in hours, and he'd already walked a fair stretch _before_ standing packed amongst thousands of bodies in the scorching summer heat, he practically swallowed the first one whole.

A slight cough caught his attention, and he looked over to see what looked like a bright orange flower bush gazing up at him. He knew this bush was, in fact, the escort for his District, but the effect of a dress comprised entirely of orange leaf-shaped petals, paired with the bright orange-red makeup that covered most of the top of the woman's face was such that it was all he could do to keep from bursting into peals of laughter.

Instead, with some effort, he arranged his features into a steady gaze, nodding at the woman and calling out a greeting.

 **"Evenin'."**

"Oh, Zedekiah. Good, you made it on board. I was beginning to worry that we'd left you behind."

 _Woulda saved me a whole lot o' trouble..._ Zed thought darkly, but instead of voicing this, he nodded at the woman.

 **"Dunno, I thought fer a while maybe they just forgot which room I's in, cos o' the whole extra person thing... ya know?"**

"Hmmm... Perhaps so," said the escort, tapping her lip absentmindedly with her forefinger. "I shall have to talk to the Head about his management over those Peacekeepers... He really ought to be more organized than this... Anyway, where were we? Oh, yes. We haven't been properly introduced, of course, but I am Selene Azafata."

Zed grunted to show his understanding. **"You the new girl, yeah?"**

Selene looked rather taken aback, but acknowledged his assertion with a nod. "Yes, I'm the new escort for District 9. Your previous escort was... demoted, and so I was given this position." She pursed her lips in a way that told Zed that this _demotion_ was probably more severe than she was letting on.

 **"Ah. Sorry you had to get stuck with us, then."**

Startled, the woman fixed her eyes upon him with a fierceness in her eyes that caught him off guard. "Sorry? I'm not at all sorry. This position is... certainly not regarded as Panem's highest honor, but that does not mean that it should be regarded with any less dedication than any other job, and I am as proud to represent your District as any person should be."

Zed inspected this woman with some curiosity - she certainly hadn't been what he was expecting to come across when meeting his first real, live Capitolite. Sure, she was dressed up in the gawdy, lavish fashion that marked her as a resident of the Capitol, but there was a certain presence with which she carried herself that felt... different from the vapid masses that flooded the television screens during the interviews at different points of the Games and Pre-Games. Her skin was of a darker shade than he'd come to associate with most Capitolites; he'd come to assume they were all as pasty pale as Panem's president, but she was nearly as tanned as he was, and he was fairly dark from the months working in the fields under the hot summer sun. Her makeup was unbearably bright, the orange-red of the powder covering her forehead standing in stark contrast to the sleek, simple black bun that pulled her hair away from her face. And there was a certain ferocity and determination in her green eyes that made him refrain from making any further comments about her costume.

 **"Hmm... Just be you? Or the other two still hangin' aroun' somewhere, too?"**

"No, there's me, too."

Startled at the sudden entrance of the man behind her, Selene whirled around.

"Oh, Carter! Why do you always _sneak up_ on people like that?"

The man standing behind Selene smirked, and Zed easily recognized Carter Manual, one of the few surviving District 9 Victors. Manual was about ten years older than himself, and stood only a hair shorter, and though he wasn't nearly as light-skinned as that wispy blonde girl who'd been picked at the reaping, his skin tone and sleek black hair told Zed that the man had come from the packing and shipping side of the district. The man held out his hand, and Zed took it, reassured by the firm handshake he received in return for his own.

 **"Zedekiah."**

"Carter."

 **"I know."**

"I'm sure you do."

Carter turned to the escort and nodded for her to leave them. She sniffed, apparently irritated by the interruption to her conversation and escort duties, but then turned toward the door on Zed's right.

"The other two tributes for your district have already gone off to bed. I see you've found the food, or what's left of it, anyway. After you've eaten your fill, I'd suggest you both do the same as the other two. Carter, do try not to keep him up too late. We have a long journey ahead of us, but it may be the last real rest he has before we reach the Capitol."

"I'll do my best."

 **"When we gonna get there?"** Zed cut in as she slid the door open.

"If all goes as planned, we ought to be there early tomorrow evening, with just enough time to prepare you for the Tribute Parade. Now, your compartment is through that door, second on the left. If you need anything, there should be a small green button by your bed. Press it, and someone will be with you within the minute."

He grunted in reply, and Selene Azafata strode off through the door toward her own compartment.

He turned back toward his mentor, who was studying him intently. Zed's brow furrowed as he observed the man in return. This man, who could be the only resource he had in order to make it back home to Nine in one piece. This man, who had made it through the arena, himself, some two decades before.

He had to know.

 **"Man, I gotta know. You really think I got a chance? There's thirty-six of 'em."**

"Honestly, I'm not sure yet. The odds aren't great, that's for sure. But it's also true that you're at a good age for it. You gotta be, what? Thirty?"

 **"Twenty-nine."**

"Just about spot on. Worked the fields your whole life too, I'd wager? Plow and scythe?"

 **"Uh huh."**

"I'd say you've probably got a better chance than most of those kids, at any rate. You're young, but not too young. And old, but not too old, either. Some of those chaperone tributes looked well into their sixties... They probably won't even last as long as some of those kids."

 **"Mmhmm..."**

Carter looked sharply at him, those dark brown eyes scrutinizing, as though sizing him up.

"Well, just by virtue of you being what you are, I've got a leg up over some of the other Districts... But I've still got research to do... read up on other tributes, talk up some Caps and such. But you gotta do your part, too."

 **"And what's my part?"**

"Eat well, rest as much as you can, and train hard. Do well in your one-on-one session with the Gamemakers. And you've got the next week to start sizing up the competition. Look into allies - with that many people going in, you're going to need at least one or two good, trustworthy people to have your back. Mingle a bit, figure out people's strengths."

 **"Gotcha."**

"Good." Carter smirked again, the same one he'd given when he'd scared the Escort. He nodded toward the partially-eaten loaf still resting in Zed's palm. "And I wasn't kidding. Eat." Zed did as he was told, and the man nodded approvingly. "Some of the other mentors try to tell their kids not to eat so much in the Capitol, for fear it'll make it harder once they're in the arena. In my way of thinking, I'd rather have you well-rested and well-nourished going into that place. You might have trouble finding food once you're in, but that's no reason to starve yourself beforehand. Your body won't work if it doesn't have food. Plus, I figure, you've got a good chance of this being your last week of life. Live it up a little. Have a few good meals before you go, yeah?"

Zed chuckled and nodded his assent.

"Good. Alright, I've kept you up long enough. Do like that girl said, eat up, and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

 **"Right."**

"Good night, Zedekiah."

 **"Good night."**


	4. Ellie and Moe

**Chapter Three: Ellie and Moe**

The next morning, Zedekiah rose at dawn, a habit formed by a lifetime of fieldwork. Get up at sunup, go down at sundown. Work in between, water when you must, and food if you're lucky. A couple minutes' rest if the peacekeeper's not looking. He blinked, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, letting out a groan and wiping the sleep from his eyes when he remembered where he was and why.

Not bothering to put on the fluffy blue slippers that had been left by the bed for him, Zed padded out of his bedroom and back to the train car that had held the buffet the night before. To his surprise, the thin, wispy-looking blonde girl who had been chosen as the female tribute for their district was already there, sitting at the table that had been set for them, eating a bowl of cereal. Taking care not to make any loud, jarring noises that might frighten her, he took a bread roll from the buffet and sat at the place opposite her. He picked up the butter knife, and it was the clinking of metal against glass that finally caught the girl's attention. She glanced up, looking a little timid at the sight of him.

Trying to come off as non-threatening as possible, Zed flicked his eyes up to hers. **"Hey. How ye doin'? Hangin' in there?"**

"I..." The poor girl's voice was as thin and wispy as she appeared. "I'm trying." She gulped, then looked down, swallowing hard in an attempt to hide the tears that had begun to brim in her wide blue eyes. It was almost jarring, how fair the girl was. Her hair, so long and curly, was so light it resembled straw that had finished drying in the sun. And her pale skin, so far removed from the rich, dark skin tones that tended to characterize the citizens of District 9, distinctly marked her as one of District 9's upper class. Her long fingers were soft and delicate, quite unlike his own, which were roughed and callused from years of plowing and harvesting. No wonder she was so shaken. Poor girl had probably never had to worry or want for anything, probably never worked a day in her life.

She was such a far cry from the hardened, weathered field workers of District 9 that Zed felt a pang of sorrow at the loss of her innocence. He truly wished that he could tell her that she would be fine, that everything was going to be alright, but Zed was nothing if not honest, and he could not lie to this child.

Perhaps he could at least take her mind off the impending dangers, though.

Hoping to change the subject, he cleared his throat, **"So, what's yer name, kid?"**

"Ellieanorah Sungrove. Ellie. You?"

 **"Zed. Zed Spelt. Nice to meet you. How old are ya, Ellie?"**

"Fifteen."

 **"That's a right good age, yeah? You do good in school?"**

Her eyes lit up a little at the mention of school. "Yes!" Her cheeks colored a little with embarrassment, and bringing her voice down to a much softer level, she added, "My mother works at the school, and she said Mrs. Miller told her I was one of the top of my class." Despite her more humbled tone, the lessening of the waver in the girl's voice revealed the pride behind her words, and he smiled to hear it.

 **"Good, good. Ya got any brothers or sisters?"**

"Four. I'm the only girl."

 **"Oh? Wow, I allus wished I had a lot o' siblings growin' up, but I never did. You the oldest? Or somewhere in the middle?"**

"Oh, I'm right in the middle, actually. Charelles and Bertinn are both older than me, and Oorlando and Neffen are younger. What about you, Zed? What's your family like?"

 _A memory. Swirling snow at the windowpane, and the sound of feeble cries coming from the bedroom — one, high and thin and mewling, the other, deep and rasping, and choked with unbridled grief._

 _Another memory. Pushing through the tall grass on a cold January morning, the sound of a struggle, and grains of unmilled flour being poured out of a bag. A shot._

He shook his head, **"All gone, now."**

The girl sobered a bit at this, and Zed was almost sorry he'd mentioned his family at all. It really wouldn't do to make the girl any more upset than she already was.

 **"Ah, never mind me. It's been ages since I had anyone to speak for. 'Sides, I'm not all that interestin'. I'm just a normal field hand. But I bet yer family does somethin' loads more fun than pushin' a plow, yeah?"**

"Well, Daddy runs a dentistry practice in town."

 **"...a what?"**

"Dentistry... uh, that is... he takes care of people's teeth. If someone in town has a toothache, they come to him."

 **"No kiddin'? They got people take care o' that kinda stuff ?"**

The girl nodded, then shook her head, looking a bit startled that everybody in District 9 didn't go to a dentist.

 **"Huh... whenever I had a toothache, I'd just get me a bit of clove at the apothecary and chew on that for a bit."**

"Oh."

They lapsed into an awkward silence. Zed was debating on what else to say to try and get the girl to not look so defeated when the door slid open behind her and the tall, scraggly-looking youth who'd been reaped with them the day before walked in. He looked to be in his late teens, probably 17 or 18, with long brown ringlets frizzing out in all directions and dark beady eyes that darted back and forth between Zed and Ellie. His lips pursed as he looked at the girl.

"Oh. You still here, are you? Done with all yer carrying on, then?"

Zed looked up at the boy, his eyes widening with incredulity at his seeming insensitivity to the girl's plight. Still, he stood, extending his hand toward the youth, who looked at him with something like distaste, but then reconsidered, grasping his hand, and then clenching it into his fist, then reaching forward with his other hand to slap Zed on the shoulder before releasing his grip. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion, but perhaps that was just how the kid was taught to greet others.

"Sup. You the last guy, then? Chaperone tribute."

 **"Yep. That'd be me. Zed. And you..."**

"Moe Dagan."

 **"Moe. Right. So whereabouts are you from, Moe?"**

"Nine, same as you. Duh."

 **"Well, yeah. 'Course. Just curious whether yer comin' from packin' or shippin' or fields..."**

"Ain't none-a yer business."

 **"I suppose not. But I don't mean no harm by askin', neither."**

The boy grunted. "Ain't nobody ever means no harm, do they? Til they screw ever'thin' up. Buncha liars."

 **"I don't lie. Well, not to my knowledge, anyway."**

Moe looked at him coolly, his expression hard to read. "Huh. Ain't nobody who ever told me that turn out to be tellin' the truth. So don't _mind_ if I don't take you at yer word, _Zed._ "

 **"Maybe you just haven't been hangin' round the right people, _Moe_."**

The boy shot him a glare that could've lit stone on fire. "Hmph. Well, anyway, least you look like you got a shot, yeah? Not like little miss don't-do-nothin'-but cry over there." Moe scoffed. He looked vindictively down at the girl, who'd made a small noise of protest. "Whatta you looking at?" Ellie went back to staring down into her cereal.

His mother's words echoed in the back of his mind, _If you can't say somethin' nice, don't say nothin' at all._ But man, was this kid making it difficult to take his mother's advice and bite his tongue. He reached out and, gripping the kid by his shoulder, steered him a short distance away from the table. **"Look, I'm not saying you should tell the girl it's gonna be all roses and rainbows, but don't you think she's got it hard enough without you puttin' her down like that?"** Moe struggled against his grip, but Zed only tightened his hold, poking his shoulder. **"All** **I'm sayin' is, ease up a little. So she's upset... But under the circumstances, she got a right to be at least a little upset. She ain't done nothin' to you."**

"What you know about anything? Get off-a me!" The kid knocked his hand away with considerably more force than expected, pushing hard against Zed's chest with his open palms. He released his grip on the boy's shoulder, and with a roar of anger, Moe stormed off and out of the compartment again, grabbing a roll of bread from the buffet table on his way out. Zed's eyes furrowed, but he was not about to pick a fight with a _child._ Smoothing down the collar of his pajama top, he retook his seat and picked up his bread knife once again.

Ellie's quiet voice floated out from behind the curtain of straw-colored hair.

"Thank you."

 **"Don' mention it."**


	5. The Recap

**Chapter Four: The Recap**

Ellie and Zed finished the rest of their meal in relative silence, and Zed had just begun contemplating whether it would be awkward to just get up and leave when the entrance of the mentor broke the stillness of the room.

"Oh, good. The two of you are out here, at least. I tried to get the kid out of his room, but uh..." Carter's voice trailed off, and he looked with annoyance in the direction of Moe's compartment door. "...he has decided not to join us just yet, to put it nicely."

 **"Huh."** Zed grunted, half amused and half astonished that the boy had the audacity to shrug off the person who was best equipped to keep them alive.

"Anyway, whether he decides to join us or not is his choice. The point is, this is the day of the recaps. As you no know, all of the processing for the reapings took much longer than usual this year, so the ceremonies actually took place out of order, and, as most of the Caps don't have the attention span to wait all day for all 36 of your names to be pulled, the editors have done us all a favor by putting together a montage — a recap, if you will, of all of your reaping ceremonies. Now, it won't tell us everything, but it'll be a good place to start. Get some idea of what, and who, we're dealing with."

Zed nodded. His attention was then diverted by a slight cough, which turned out to be Selene, beckoning at him and Ellie to follow her. They made their way down the row of boxcars until they reached one that was clearly a screening room, with a long sofa in the middle, flanked by two large, cushioned armchairs.

Selene immediately seated herself in the armchair on the right, and Carter sat on the sofa. Ellie seated herself between Selene and Carter on the right hand side of the sofa, leaving the left armchair for Zed, which he took.

He leaned toward Carter, who was shuffling through a stack of papers on a clipboard, pen in hand, most likely readying himself to jot down anything he deemed important.

 **"Anything ya think I should keep an eye out for, boss?"** he whispered.

"Just keep an eye out for anyone that looks like they'll be a threat, and make note of people you might want to scout out for future alliances. Of course you can't _really_ tell at this point, but first impressions are there for a reason, and I'll be scouting out the competition during the next week, as well, talking to the other mentors and such... I'm curious to see how the girl on fire will handle her first mentorship. I hear she-"

Carter's voice was interrupted by the roaring of the Anthem, and the seal of Panem faded away to reveal Ceasar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith, the all-too-familiar commentators for the Hunger Games, who joked and bantered back and forth in their grating, overenthusiastic manner until Zed could've reached through the screen and throttled them just so they'd get to the point. But at last they came to the main event, and Zed settled in to watch.

District One started them off with a standard enough reaping. A young girl, Crystal Glory was called, only to be immediately volunteered for by an obvious Career. Tall, confident, with light brown hair pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head. She strode forward, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown, and Carter made a small sound of recognition.

"Bet you anything that's Drake Hennessy's little sister. Came in... oh, I don't remember, but top five, a few years back? Spitting image, except that she's a girl."

The boy's name was called, and he ascended the stage. After a few moments of awkward silence, the escort cleared his throat and pulled the name from the third bowl. The name was lost as Carter's voice cut in.

"Wow... now there's a rare occurrence... no volunteers for this boy? In all of District 1? That's... Oh, _holy shit._ "

Zed started and turned to stare at his mentor, whose jaw had visibly slackened at the icy blonde woman now striding across the stage.

 **"What? Who is it?**

"That's.. that's District One's head trainer at the Academy."

Zed turned his head back toward the screen. A tall, statuesque woman of about thirty was making her way through the crowd, looking as though she'd just won a grand prize, her steel-blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

His attention diverted again as Selene added on to Carter's observation. "You know, I do believe he's right. She's always right up near the front of the crowd... as close as you can get to the stage without being an actual Victor. Ooh... she's going to be one to watch, that's for certain."

"Selene's right. You can be sure she'll be right up there at the top of the Career Pack."

Carter was cut off again as the Anthem signaled the transition to District 2's Reaping Ceremony. It was fairly routine for the next few names - District 2's children were volunteered for, and the man, while not a volunteer, looked strong enough for somebody middle aged. District 3's girl looked very young, probably 13 or 14, but when the adult's name was called, the woman was volunteered for by a young man who was probably the girl's older brother, for she broke down sobbing and clutched him round his middle when he had joined her up on stage.

District 4 also seemed standard enough - two children were called; both were volunteered for. The surprise came when the adult who volunteered turned out to be an older man in his fifties or sixties with greying hair and deep creases around his eyes.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't the good Captain Brine, come to take matters into his own hands."

 **"Captain?"** Zed turned to look at his mentor, who had crossed his arms and leaned back into the sofa.

"Sea Captain, best I can remember. His daughter Abyssa came in top five or so, a few years back... might even have been same year as the Hennessy kid, though don't quote me on that. He's got a whole slew of kids that he's training up Career-style. Saw 'em all during the family interviews, and he was right proud of them, named off a bunch of them, saying how he was looking forward to raising a whole brigade of Victors. Obviously, that Games didn't quite end the way he wanted it to..."

Zed nodded, his throat tight. He knew Careers trained for the Games, and that even though it was technically against the rules, the Capitol turned a blind eye to it. But to parade a whole family of them before all of Panem? The man was crazy. And now, as Carter had so succinctly put it, he seemed to be taking it into his own hands.

The rest of the Reapings seemed to pass by in a blur of names and faces, until Zed could hardly remember which face went with which district. District 5's ceremony was uneventful. The girl from District 6 was so pale she actually looked white. Not the kind of pale that those kids from the richer families tended to be, but actually white, like a cloud. District 7 produced the youngest Tribute of the Games, a small boy with puppy-brown eyes, standing at barely 5 feet tall.

And then... "Oh, you're kidding me..."

 **"Who...?"**

"Ginny got pulled, out of how many!? You gotta be _kidding_ me! Like Bolt hasn't gone through enough?"

Zed fell silent as his mentor went off in an outraged tirade against the System, the Quell Twist, and the unfairness that District 8 Victor Bolton Hane had endured for years. He was just starting to go off on the Capitol when Selene touched his arm and shook her head. Carter stopped talking mid-sentence, then cleared his throat and smiled a weak, uncomfortable smile.

"Sorry," he said quietly, "But I've known Bolt for _years,_ and... Ginnifer's his wife. Best thing that ever happened to him, if we're bein' honest. Stuck with him through hell and high water, drinking, losing kids in the Games... It's just not fair, that's all..."

He let out a breath, then muttered, "Though, if we're being honest, when was it _ever_ about being fair?"

Zed nodded grimly at the man, then turned to look back at the screen. Carter's rant had lasted through their own reapings, and those of Districts 10 and 11.

They watched in silence as the Tributes from District 12 we're called up. No one volunteered for them, and as the screen faded to black and the anthem blared again, he knew their fates were sealed, just as his was.


End file.
